A Quantum of Solace
by Mistress Lrigtar
Summary: Even the 'Chosen One' needs a little down time when it's all said and done. A one-shot written for the James Bond Challenge posted on SIYE.


**Author's note: **This is a short and simple little one-shot for the Harry Bond 007 Challenge posted at SIYE awhile ago, and I thought I'd post it here for fun. There's a mini-game built in. I've used every single title from an official James Bond movie, plus a bonus unofficial Bond movie title. There are 24 in all, can you find them?

Thanks to Arnel and seekers_destiny for betaing!

**hghghghg ghghghgh**

With a loud clap of thunder, the Bludger streaked past him, narrowly missing taking his head off and smashed into the tall oak behind him. Splinters of wood flew through the air as the Bludger screamed in protest and attempted to dislodge itself from the tight hole it was wedged in. The tree groaned in protest from the Bludger's actions or the high winds buffeting its branches about.

Lowering himself against the handle of his Thunderball 3000, he zoomed away from the scene and once again scanned the sky for his quarry. He'd lost sight of her when the sudden rainstorm blew in out of nowhere. Well, he supposed the dark clouds that had been scudding across the horizon all morning should have been an indication that a storm was brewing, but he had been too engrossed in the chase to pay much attention. It had been most unsporting of her to send the Bludger after him and he would make her pay dearly for that if he ever caught her.

He was on leave from being on her majesty's secret service, having just returned from Russia with Lovegood, his partner on the last case he'd been assigned. It had been long and tedious, and Lovegood's constant chatter about an Octopussy she'd seen slinking around in the dark alleys of Moscow had driven him to distraction. She'd insisted it was an eight-legged feline animal, but that wasn't what sprang to mind every time she mentioned it. He'd finally had to tell her to stop saying the blasted word, to which Lovegood had turned her soulful blue eyes on him and innocently suggested he may be in need of a good snog. When he had gaped, open-mouthed at her like a fish out of water, she had gone on to say they served a very nice one in a dainty bone china cup at the tea shop around the corner. Clearly, they were not even in the same Quidditch pitch as far as what they had been conversing about.

After that, it had been all he could do to focus on the task at hand and capturing the man with the golden gun instead of who he would love to snog the living daylights out of. With that thought in mind, he gave up the chase and turned his brand new broom around to scan the ground for a clear place to land. Spying a tin rooftop just past the tree line, he headed towards it, landing with a splash as his feet touched down on the soggy earth, next to a ramshackle little pub. Warm light spilled over the ground, beckoning him. Leaning his broom against the wall, he cast a locking charm on it before opening the thin wooden door to the pub.

"Welcome to Cue's, mate!" the bartender called jovially from where he stood behind the worn wooden bar. "I'm Q, the owner and proprietor of this establishment." The barkeep took in his drenched robes and asked the obvious. "Is it raining outside?"

Cocking his head, he listened to the sound of rain drumming on the roof of the bar and looked over at the barkeep, who shrugged noncommittally before returning to stacking highball glasses in an ever increasingly teetering tower on the counter. It was clear Q was trying to impress a pretty little brunette seated on a stool at the bar, who was sipping some kind of red and more than likely, fruity drink from a tall frosted glass.

Looking around the bar, he took in the quaint décor; it was a sad attempt at Muggle kitsch, but instead looked like a hoarder's nightmare. Rusted bicycle rims hung from the ceiling, along with electrical cords, and a few light sockets with light bulbs lit with fairy lights, since Muggle electricity didn't mix with magical energy. The walls were lined with shelves sagging under the weight of toasters, waffle irons, microwaves, television sets, and a plethora of other Muggle paraphernalia.

Eyeing the brunette speculatively, he approached her slowly, wondering if perhaps she may just happen to be his contact. It was a long-shot since, technically, he was supposed to still be on leave, but live and let die or c'est la vie as a friend of his was fond of saying. He settled onto the stool next to her, attempting to ignore the look of disdain she cast him as his messy black hair dripped on the rough wooden surface.

Resisting the urge to shake his head like a dog and shower her with droplets of water, he instead leaned slightly towards her and quietly remarked, "I hear there's a new broom coming out called the Moonraker by Universal Brooms, Ltd."

The brunette cast her eyes around nervously and chewed on her bottom lip in thought. "I think you are mistaken," she began and flicked her eyes towards Q who was staring back at her with raised eyebrows and silently mouthing to her. "Because…because," she blew her breath out in frustration. "Why did it have to be Quidditch terms? It's not fair!"

He decided to pretend he hadn't heard her sidebar comment and stared pointedly at her, willing her to come up with the right answer.

"Comet," Q coughed into his hand from where he was bending down to retrieve some glasses from under the bar.

"Oh, yes!" the pretty brunette yelped loudly, causing him and Q to make shushing noises and look worriedly towards the door of the bar. She covered her mouth with her hands and looked between them with wide eyes until she finally recovered enough to continue. "I think you are mistaken," she quietly said. "I think you meant to say the Comet Trading Company."

"Yeah, you are correct," he said and sagged slightly in relief that she had answered correctly, otherwise he would have had to dispatch her rather quickly. He would like to avoid that, license to kill or not. "May I ask your name?"

A slight blush tinged her cheeks and again she flicked her eyes towards the door of the bar. He followed her gaze, but there wasn't anyone there or any signs that anyone was approaching the establishment. Looking back at the brunette in puzzlement, he raised his eyebrows in a question. "Your name?" he prodded.

"My name," she said. "Yes, my name is IrmaBiter." She mumbled very quickly and began fiddling with the cocktail napkin sitting under her drink.

"Irma Biter?" he asked in surprise and Q attempted to hide his laughter at her discomfort behind his bar rag. Irma shot him a hard look and he immediately reined in his mirth and went back to scrubbing glasses with the rag.

"And yours?" Irma asked.

"Bond, James Bond," James replied and Irma's giggles at his response made his cheeks burn even as he chuckled, too. "Do you find that amusing, Miss _Biter_?"

"I do," she giggled and he quirked an eyebrow at her, which only caused her to lose complete control and double over with mirth. A badge swung out from beneath her robes and James thought it looked vaguely like the medical badges worn by the staff at St. Mungo's.

He drummed his fingers impatiently on the bar, waiting for her laughter to subside, which it finally did. She sat up straighter on her stool, wiping a tear from one golden eye. Well, he supposed her eyes weren't really golden, more hazel, but in the dim light of the pub the golden flecks were more prominent.

"So, are you a doctor?" James asked, pointing to the St. Mungo's badge in an attempt to get the Quaffle rolling.

"A doctor, no!" she exclaimed. "I'm a healer in training."

"Those hands do have a magical touch," Q interjected, his sparkling blue eyes clouding over as he reminisced. "The things she can do with them would make your toes curl, James. Why, just last night she performed this little swirly..." A gold fingernail flashed as Irma poked Q forcibly in the chest, and James turned away to hide the tinge of green he was sure his face had taken as images popped unbidden in his head.

"I have half a mind to chuck this at you!" Irma hissed, lifting her fruity drink off the bar top. "That's private!"

"What'd I do?" Q whinged as Irma nearly scrambled over the bar to cuff him across the side of his head. Q flicked his rag at her in a vain attempt to ward her off, but it only seemed to infuriate her more.

"They say diamonds are forever," a sultry voice commented from the pub door. "What do you think those two's chances are?"

James turned away from the bickering duo and his eyes nearly popped out of his sockets at the vision lounging against the doorjamb. The rain had darkened her normally fiery hair to a deep auburn, and it clung to her petite frame, accentuating every curve of her upper body. She was wearing a rain-soaked white t-shirt and a long black skirt. The skirt was practically demure compared to the rest of the package.

"They're diamonds in the rough," he offered as explanation, attempting to keep his eyes from continuing to rove hungrily over her body, and look suave and sophisticated instead. From the smirk on her face he had a feeling he was failing spectacularly.

That is, until she stepped away from the door and tripped over the threshold in the obscenely high heels she was wearing. James jumped up immediately, coming to her rescue and catching her as she stumbled. Her fingers dug into his biceps as he wrapped his arms around her and she leaned heavily against him. He couldn't stop himself from looking down and receiving a very nice view to a killer décolletage exposed by the very low vee of her t-shirt. Her body seemed to melt against his and time stopped for a moment as she collected herself. She looked up, catching him staring and the corner of her mouth turned up in a half smile.

"For your eyes only," she whispered before slipping out of his arms as quickly as she had entered them. She looked around the establishment and crinkled her nose up in mock displeasure before stating loudly. "I am definitely not in the Casino Royale."

Q stopped arguing with Irma immediately and shot a glare in the red-head's direction, but she blatantly ignored him. Irma huffed something that sounded like '_Never say never again,_' or something equally as nonsensical and sat back down on her stool to sip sulkily at her drink.

James touched the stunning red head's elbow and guided her to the bar, offering her the stool next to his.

"What's your name?" he asked, trying to keep his eyes on hers and not at the small mounds heaving through her still very wet t-shirt.

"Gita Legover," she innocently said, stepping closer and perching on the stool he had just indicated, the skirt she was wearing parting at a hidden slit that ran up the side and revealing a good amount of leg.

"I'm sorry?" he asked with a gulp just as the bartender did the same, but much louder.

"I'M SORRY?!" Q glared menacingly at the two of them and James wondered if his cover had been blown somehow.

"You heard me!" the beautiful witch spat at the bartender, sending him a blazing look that brooked no argument before turning those lovely chocolate brown eyes back to James, the blazing look melting into something much more, and he gulped again, sensual. "You heard me," she breathed.

"Can – can I buy you a drink?" he croaked, hoping to steer them back towards safer ground.

"Only if you're buying," she quipped.

"Er, that is what I said," he replied.

"Oh, it is, isn't it?" she remarked, batting her eyelashes and biting her lip in a way that was making his head spin. He turned away to sit stiffly on his stool and faced the bartender who was now shooting him extremely dark and threatening looks. Irma leaned forward at the bar to gape across him at the gorgeous redhead, who studiously ignored her and was absent-mindedly twisting a long strand of her damp hair around a finger.

"What can I make you?" Q asked gruffly, sending James a pointed look.

"Er, here's a new drink I'd like to try," James answered, thinking about what he would like. "Ginger beer, a dash of orange liquor, splash of grenadine, and four maraschino cherries on one of those little plastic swords. Shaken not stirred."

"Little plastic swords?" Q griped.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Irma began, but Q had already turned away and was preparing the drink in a shaker.

"Oh, and a twist of lime rind for garnish," James added and Q curtly nodded his head.

The redhead purred next to him. "I imagine the deep green of a lime would match your eyes perfectly."

James smiled, relaxed enough now that the bartender was occupied to play along. "A ginger drink for a ginger beauty."

Irma gagged next to him, but Gita's smile broadened, revealing her little pearly white teeth. "That's quite the golden tongue you have there, Mr…." the lovely bird murmured.

"Bond, James Bond," he said for the second time that evening with much more conviction and was rewarded when the dainty red eyebrows rose and a cat-like grin graced her rosy lips.

"Well, Mr. Bond," she said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Please, call me James," he said, the name rolling off his tongue, but sounding strange to his ears. Gita caught the flicker of emotion that passed over his eyes and placed her hand upon his. "It's a pleasure, James."

"I think," James started before deciding to plough ahead. "I think the pleasure's all mine."

He thought something sounding a bit like 'erg' came from Irma's direction and he was positively certain that Q was growling as he violently shook the shaker containing James' made-up cocktail. However, all he could hear was the mewing sounds Gita was making at his comment, and the way she was currently looking at him through her eyelashes made him want to sod it all and have his way with her right then and there. After all, you only live twice or at least he had, and if he had learned anything from that experience, it was not to take anything for granted. Q's growling was definitely growing louder, however, and James couldn't ignore the bartender when he slammed two glasses on the bar top in front of them.

"Easy, there, Mr. _Bond!_" Q ground out, plopping two green plastic swords spearing four maraschino cherries each, as requested, into the glasses. "Your drinks."

He held the shaker in front of him, oblivious to the ominous hissing coming from the metal container.

"Wait!" Irma called, rising in her seat and leaning across the bar towards Q once again, but it was too late to stop him. With a quick twist of his hands he pulled off the top or it exploded, James wasn't sure which it was and a gingery pink liquid spewed out like lava from a volcano, coating them all, as well as the shelves behind the bar in a sticky sweet, frothy mess.

"Ron!" Irma sputtered, breaking character, the ginger beer concoction dripping from her hair, nose, and ears. "Of all the idiotic things to do!"

"What?" Ron barked, attempting to shake the sticky liquid from his arms and hands and only succeeding in flinging more of it upon them all. "It's Harry's fault! He told me to shake it!"

"Do you do everything Harry tells you to do?" Hermione spat back looking at her boyfriend in disgust. "Now I need a shower!" She jumped off her stool and stomped out of the shed. Ron quickly followed, but not until he shot Harry a look of gratitude followed by a stern look of warning and a flick of his eyes towards _Gita_ before disappearing out into the pouring rain to chase after his girlfriend.

"Finally," Gita breathed, still in character, and seemingly unconcerned that she was now not only wet, but also covered in ginger beer, orange liquor, and grenadine. "Now, I have you all to myself, Mr. Bond." She pulled the little plastic sword from her glass and popping it in her mouth, pulled off the first cherry. She rolled it on her tongue in a way that should be illegal and James found himself gulping for the third time that day and really wishing he had a drink in his glass instead of dripping from his hair.

"Are we – are we still playing?" James stuttered, watching as her delicate teeth finally bit the cherry in half and began chewing it slowly, clearly savouring either its flavour or the obvious affect her actions were having on him.

"Are you up to playing some more?" she finally cooed after swallowing the cherry, making his stomach turn to jelly.

"I'm always up to play," the response slipped off his tongue before he thought of the ramifications of the statement and his cheeks flamed.

Gita giggled merrily. "Well, Mr. Bond, that is very good to know.

"I'm not sure Q would approve," James commented.

Gita rolled her eyes. "Forget about Q. He's a hypocrite. I saw the look that came to his eyes when Irma ran out of here in the pouring rain. No need to guess what was running through that brain of his." She shivered from a sudden chill, and crossed her arms in front of her.

"Are you cold?" he asked, removing his jacket and placing it over her shoulders. Despite it being soaked on the outside, the jacket was still warm and dry on the inside and she snuggled happily into its warmth.

"Thank you," she murmured, glancing over at him. "It's kind of you to give that to me." She slipped her hand out from the depths of his jacket and brushed his sticky, wet fringe away from his forehead. "I'm sorry about the Bludger. I was really disappointed when you gave up the chase. I was hoping you would catch me."

He caught her hand in his as she was withdrawing it back to the confines of the jacket. "Maybe I just did."

Her brown eyes sparkled as she twined her fingers in his. "Maybe I let you."

He looked into her eyes, uncertain if they were still playing or not, but deciding either way that whatever he had to say would translate. "Just so you know I may not let you go. I'd do just about anything to keep you. I'd give you the world if it would make your eyes sparkle just as they are now, forever."

"The world is not enough," Gita remarked.

"What is, then?" he asked, almost afraid to hear her answer.

"I want the spy who loved me once," she whispered. "I want him back forever."

"Tomorrow never dies when I am with you," he uttered, gazing into her warm brown eyes and knowing he'd give anything to become lost in them permanently.

"That's profound," she murmured. "What does it mean?"

"It means, time stops when I am with you," he answered, standing and pulling her up as well. He wrapped his arms around her waist and revelled in the feeling when her hands instinctually slid up his arms to link behind his neck. "I'm at peace in your arms, and I never want to leave."

"Then don't," Gita urged, tilting her head up towards his. "Promise you'll never die another day."

She didn't have to ask twice. He bent his head and claimed her lips with his own, tasting the sweetness of the drink that had showered down on them moments before. All the pent up frustration from the earlier chase fled as her mouth parted and the kiss deepened, their tongues twirling in a chase of their own.

When they finally parted, lips swollen and cheeks flushed, they smiled giddily at each other before she tugged on his hand, pulling him towards the door. Pushing it open, a refreshingly cool breeze along with droplets of rain blew into the shed. Turning in his arms, she pressed her back against his chest and he draped his arms contentedly around her, burying his nose in her hair and breathing in the intoxicating floral scent. Her hands sought his out once again, linking her fingers through his and clinging tightly. He didn't know how long they stood there, silently watching the sky fall into darkness and lights pop on in The Burrow windows and he didn't care. All he knew was as they melted into each other, she was his once again and this time he would never let her go.


End file.
